I didn't have parents, so I lived in people's homes... And because I grew up with no parental role models, I learned to become my own friend, eventually my own father and my own mother.
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Beware! Grown Up Children!
Children need parental love,
Children utilise parental services,
Children get life with parental guidance,
Children want parental money and property;
As children grow and earn on their own,
Parents get older and senior in their turn,
Parents getting older and lose their memory,
asks many doubts and queries everyday;
Grown up children are not patient
nowadays for every parental query,
They care for their own children only
and blow up their parents to old-age homes!
The history will repeat,
Beware! Grown up children! !
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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A Saying We Hear Often
A saying we hear often like father like son
It is only human when all is said and done
That the boy models himself on the behaviour of dad
More often than not for the good than the bad.
Though few so few ever grow into a sage
Good values by people learned at a young age
In behaviour the son the dad does imitate
One might say from life we get what we create.
The son mostly models himself on the father what more proof does one need
That by good or bad example one only can lead
Though on some occasions this has been proved wrong
The bond between father and son mostly strong.
I'm not into human psychology so don't ask me why
Like father like son in most cases apply
Without a good father the child in life may not succeed
Good role models in their life every young person need.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Male parental hierarchy.
My parents are two, grandparents four
And great grandparents, eight and so on.
I am known by my father, his father,
And his father and so on by male side.
My mother, her mother and father, their
Mother and father and so on are ignored.
My fathers’ mother and grandfather’s
Mother and so on go to oblivion.
I am known by my father, his father
And his father and so on as a family.
All women from whom I have drawn
Their genes have been shut out.
Parental hierarchy is represented
By male, women dislodged at every stage.
25.08.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The only reason we make good role models is because you guys look up to athletes and we can influence you in positive ways. But the real role models should be your parents and teachers!
quote by Dante Hall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You don't have to know people personally for them to be role models. Some of my most important role models were historical or literary figures that I only read about - never actually met.
quote by John Wilson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everybody makes mistakes, including role models, so you should just learn and grow from it. Even the best role models do screw up and learn from their mistakes, and I think it is just completely unrealistic to say that role models are perfect.
quote by Kate Bosworth
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Natalia's Life
natalia didn't believe
in anything anymore
for her parents abused her
and beat her every day
witch made natalia
wish...
she wasn't alive
natalia was only 6
when her father
tried to rape her
she went crying to her mother
but her mother didn't listen
or seem to care
natalia is 16
about to have a baby
she doesn't want
or need
natalia is 18
tried to kill
her parents
but her father
grabed a hold of her
and killed her instead
by: crystal sonier
age: 16
poem by Natalia Anna Joelie
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The most important role models should and could be parents and teachers. But that said, once you're a teenager you've probably gotten as much of an example from your parents as you're going to.
quote by Andrew Shue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Parents
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
I looking for you
to talk about my heart
which still ill
untill i will see you
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
You are the third one
In my small heart
After ALLAH and
And my prophet MOHAMED
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH is ordering us
Not to make them angry
Never to tell them
the smallest word ouufff
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
Oh ALLAH loves who
Makes his parents happy
And forgives those
Who have a lot of mistakes
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
Ilove you i love you
Oh ALLAH enter me
To the higher Firdaous
With my parents and
every single MUSLIM
Oh my mother Oh my father
Oh my mother Oh my father
Where are you where are you wher are you?
I love you i love you
poem by Abderaouf Laoud
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Father Boy
Oh Father Boy, Oh Father Boy
You didn’t see the signs
You didn’t hear a thing did you
Oh Father Boy, my dear
You didn’t see, you didn’t look, you didn’t listen either
You didn’t try to understand
You didn’t take the time
You weren’t a Father, Father Boy, you weren’t a Father, Father.
Oh Father Boy, Father Boy
When a Father has a Boy
To be a Father, Father see
You have to see the Boy
The Boy inside the Father
And the Father in the Boy
But Father Boy, Oh Father Boy
You just didn’t pay attention
For a Boy to be a Father, Father
He cannot be a Father Boy.
(Previously published in Megaera, #4, Fall 2000)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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I grew up in a family where our mother made our clothing. We didn't have a lot of money, so we learned how to scrimp, and we learned how to invent and to create. And those are learned skills.
quote by Marcy Kaptur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Future
"Let's make him a sailor," said Father,
"And he will adventure the sea."
"A soldier," said Mother, "is rather
What I would prefer him to be."
"A lawyer," said Father, "would please me,
For then he could draw up my will."
"A doctor," said Mother, "would ease me;
Maybe he could give me a pill."
Said Father: "Lt's make him a curate,
A Bishop in gaiters to be."
Said Mother: "I couldn't endure it
To have Willie preaching to me."
Said Father: ""Let him be a poet;
So often he's gathering wool."
Said Mother with temper: "Oh stow it!
You know it, a poet's a fool."
Said Farther: "Your son is a duffer,
A stupid and mischievous elf."
Said Mother, who's rather a huffer:
"That's right - he takes after yourself."
Controlling parental emotion
They turned to me, seeking a cue,
And sudden conceived the bright notion
To ask what I wanted to do.
Said I: "my ambition is modest:
A clown in a circus I'd be,
And turn somersaults in the sawdust
With audience laughing at me."
. . . Poor parents! they're dead and decaying,
But I am a clown as you see;
And though in no circus I'm playing,
How people are laughing at me!
poem by Robert William Service
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Lost and Found
In a southern city lived a wealthy family;
In a southern city was the happy home
Of a father and mother and a little daughter.
In peace and contentment they lived alone.
But one summer evening there happened a misfortune,
Which caused the parents to weep and mourn,
For this little daughter, a loving little treasure,
Was a poor little wanderer far, far from home.
It happened thus, -- the mother went out calling
On a widow friend, who lived all alone;
She left her little daughter in the care of her father,
And through his neglect she wandered from home.
The father rocked his child, till her eyes closed in slumber;
Thought he to himself, I'll go over across the way,
And see a neighbor friend; he'll be there this evening,
And I must see him before he goes away.
He left his little one, he supposed, sweetly sleeping
In her little cradle, in the house alone,
And in his great hurry he left the gate ajar;
This thoughtlessness caused destruction to his home.
Soon after he was gone she awoke from her slumber,
Poor child, she then found herself all alone,
For no one was there, no one heard her weeping
As she wandered away far, far from home.
She wandered along on the busy thoroughbare,
No one seemed to notice this little one alone;
She wandered down Broadway till the little feet were tired,
This poor little wanderer far away from home.
At last, getting weary, she sat down on the pavement,
And soon fell asleep, so tired had she grown;
In her troubled sleep she would softly murmur, papa;
This poor little lost one so far away from home.
A policeman came along and saw her sweetly sleeping,
On the pavement at midnight alone.
He gently picked her up and took her to the station,
This poor little wanderer far away from home.
He advertised, but could not find her parents;
At last he took her to the orphan home,
Where she lived till a farmer in the country
Took her to live with him, this wanderer alone.
The father died o'er the loss of his daughter,
The mother sought for her three years alone;
At last she found her with kind people in the country,
Her poor little wanderer far away from home.
Kind people can imagine the joy of the mother,
When she found her little loving one.
"Oh God," exclaimed the mother, "I have found my little Alice,
My poor little wanderer far away from home.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Just One of Today's Thoughts
It's funny how we go through our life with all its hardships, tests, & disappointments. But we must realize that these things are just 'molding' tools. We're being molded by a Higher Power to become the people that He would have us to be.
WOMEN who are: positive, productive, & nurturing
independent, yet submissive
intelligent, yet willing to be educated
Women who are ROLE MODELS...
MOTHERS...
WIVES...
And God-Fearing Phenomenal WOMEN!
MEN who are: that protective provider
uplifting & positive
(and appreciative of women)
Men who are ROLE MODELS...
FATHERS...
HUSBANDS...
And God-Fearing Manly MEN!
And CHILDREN who are: individuals, yet adolescent
educated & respectful
(respected!)
Children who are ROLE MODELS...
PRODUCTIVE,
POSITIVE,
& PARTICULAR
God-Fearing Determined CHILDREN!
Thank You God! !
poem by April Mack
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Parents must lead by example. Don't use the cliche; do as I say and not as I do. We are our children's first and most important role models.
Half my father
Half my father
Half my mother
My mother white as a ghost
My father black as coal
In my face the mixture glows
My skin is white
Still I am a black man
By the make of my nose
My hair is curly
My eyes are gray
Within me both if them lives
My mother’s race
Did enslave
My father’s race
Was never paid.
Still within I bare the two
Am O the new American?
My father is white
My mother is Korean
They met during the war
And I was born
Their only son
By my tone of skin
And by my eyes
You can tell
That there is a divide
And by my blonde hair
It is there for you to spy
Am I the new American?
My mother is German
My father polish
I learned three languages
As I grew older
Both of them
Did love me well
And of each country did tell
That I could draw
From each well
Am I the new American?
My father is Chinese
My mother Spanish
Both crossed over the Rio Grand
I am in the make of my father
But I have my mother’s brown skin
Am I the new American?
poem by David E. Patton
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Faith in the Lord
A little boy needed an operation that his parents couldn't afford.
They didn't have much money but they had faith in the Lord.
The boy was terminally ill and he grew very frail.
But his parents never lost faith and he eventually got well.
Now he's in complete remission thanks to the Lord.
Their prayers and faith brought about this wonderful reward.
poem by Randy Johnson
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Using The Same Old Devices
No it's not easy
To speak one's mind.
Or to take a stand
For something strongly felt!
There are more people
Bringing those like this down.
And they are not happy at all...
Until they see that person crawling,
Falling to the ground!
And these are the very same people who say...
They are looking for leaders and role models.
And one 'has' to wonder,
If they are seeking human sacrifices?
Or...
Are they using the same old devices,
To make excuses...
Not to stand on their own two feet!
And it is much easier,
To beat up that one person who has the nerve...
And does!
Creating a further disdain,
For someone who has the audacity
To attract attention,
To perceive and believe...
He or she may be better than the rest of them!
And they are not happy at all...
Until they see that person crawling,
Falling to the ground!
And these are the very same people who say...
They are looking for leaders and role models.
To unite them as a people!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Children Are The Future Of Humanity
The children are the future of Humanity so teach the children well
And as their teacher your knowledge of Life and Nature to them you ought to tell
And teach them to respect our Mother Earth the one who feeds us all
And in years from now to you they will be grateful when memories of you they will recall.
The children are the future of Humanity but for guidance on you they do depend
They need you as a mentor and they need you as a friend
Children are innocent and easily led astray good role models they do need
That you have been chosen as their mentor to you is a great honour indeed.
Children who do not have good role models in life are easily led astray
That they do not receive a fair go does seem so sad to say
Far too many young children become victims of abuse
For wronging children in any way there cannot be an excuse.
As the teacher of the children you've been chosen for to lead
And though of good mentors and teachers we seldom hear about or read
That you do your best as a teacher for you enough of success
To young people that you mentor you bring hope and happiness.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Pinkle Purr
Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
A little black nothing of feet and fur;
And by-and-by, when his eyes came through,
He saw his mother, the big Tattoo.
And all that he learned he learned from her.
'I'll ask my mother,' says Pinkle Purr.
Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
A ridiculous kitten with silky fur.
And little black Pinkle grew and grew
Till he got as big as the big Tattoo.
And all that he did he did with her.
'Two friends together,' says Pinkle Purr.
Tattoo was the mother of Pinkle Purr,
An adventurous cat in a coat of fur.
And whenever he thought of a thing to do,
He didn't much bother about Tattoo,
For he knows it's nothing to do with her,
So 'See you later,' says Pinkle Purr.
Tattoo is the mother of Pinkle Purr,
An enormous leopard with coal-black fur.
A little brown kitten that's nearly new
Is now playing games with its big Tattoo…
And Pink looks lazily down at her:
'Dear little Tat,' says Pinkle Purr.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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